


Drabbles In the Key of Spring

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [63]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, kustard - Freeform, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-01-07 11:16:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 20,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18409532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: More Drabbles in the ‘By Any Other Name’ universe





	1. Up to the Highest Height

* * *

The sofa was empty when Edge came home from work. He set his briefcase and the paper bag aside, calling out, “Stretch?”

Almost immediately, he heard footsteps on the basement stairs and a moment later, Stretch poked his head out through the door. “yeah?”

Edge raised a brow bone at him and held out his arms. “Well?”

That earned him a roll of eye lights, and also Stretch coming through the door and into his arms, offering a sedate peck on the cheekbone. 

“that what you were hoping for, edgelord?” Stretch asked cheekily.

“Not exactly, but it will do. I have something for you.”

Stretch stepped back, “aww, if i’d known that, i would’ve given you a better kiss.”

“You can make it up to me later. Here,” Edge picked up the paper bag. It was large but very thin and he didn’t hand it over immediately. “I drive past a park on my way home every day, and today there was a young Human woman there with a cart, selling these. So I stopped and got you one.”

He reached into the bag and pulled out a paper contraption trailed by long streamers of ribbons. Stretch’s confused expression eased into amused delight. “you got me a kite?”

“I did. She assured me that the weather is perfect for it.”

“i haven’t been outside since this morning but yeah, i bet it is,” he took it carefully from Edge’s hands. The background was yellow with a large dragon appearing to burst from the front. Stretch laughed softly, inspecting the colorful ribbons that made up the tail. “you mean someone was actually selling kites in the park like freaking mary poppins? damn, wish i’d gotten a pic of that!”

“I considered that and with the young woman’s permission, I took one for you.”

He barely finished before he was catching Stretch again in his arms, careful of the kite as Stretch gave him a much better kiss. Edge could almost taste his happiness.

Reluctantly, Edge drew away. “Let me get changed and we can go fly it.”

Stretch nodded, holding the kite up again to study it. “i love you so much.”

* * *

“i hate this thing.”

Edge was in agreement with Stretch’s grumbling. They’d taken the kite over to the large field by the school, away from overhead lines and trees. The handwritten instructions and a YouTube video hadn’t gotten them any close to getting the kite in the air. Twenty minutes in and thus far, their longest flight was the amount of time it took for it to swoop back to the ground.

“i don’t get it,” Stretch picked up the kite from where it had fallen in disgrace after yet another failed attempt. “we’ve got lift. obviously.” He waved a vague hand at the air where the breeze was strong enough the rustle the strings on his hoodie. “the lift position is above the center of gravity, we should be getting a pendulum effect that increases lift and forces it to rise so why—“

Before Edge could point out Stretch had lost him right after the word lift, his frustrated expression changed. No less frustrated but he slapped his own forehead and groaned, ”ah i’m so stupid!”

“You—“ _Are not_ , Edge trailed away from saying, watching as Stretch delicately shifted the twin strings where they were attached to the crossed sticks so they were further apart.

“there!” Stretch said triumphantly.

“There?” Edge asked doubtfully, but he dutifully took the kite when Stretch handed it to him, watched as his husband once again spooled out the line.

“that’ll improve the angle of lift!” Stretch called to him. “get ready to toss it up!”

He waited as Stretch pulled the line taut and then shouted, “now!”

Edge tossed the kite lightly into the air as he had a half dozen times before. It wobbled threateningly, bobbing low enough that the tails swept the ground while Stretch frantically tugged at the line until suddenly—

It stabilized, rising in the air, the ribbons sweeping playfully beneath it.

“we did it!” Stretch said gleefully, his words almost lost in the wind.

“We did,” Edge jogged back to him and looked up. The little kite was holding steady, a bright splash of yellow against the blue sky along with its fanning tail of colors.

They watched together as it soared higher, until Edge could no longer make out the picture of the dragon.

“What’s that?”

Edge turned to see a few of the neighborhood children standing behind them, their eyes wide and curious as they looked up at what was, to them, an unidentified flying object.

“hey, guys!” Stretch called back to them, “it’s a kite. it’s a tethered air craft with wing surfaces that create lift and drag to fly!”

Every child stared with fascination, as Edge had suspected they would. Most of them were old enough to remember living underground and the first wonder of seeing the sun, the sky. While Stretch started a rambling explanation on the history of kites, Edge quietly returned to the bench where his jacket was sitting atop a package.

“…and that’s why…oh, hey, kiddos, check it out.” 

That wide eyed curiosity turned to squeals of delight that were loud enough to make Edge wince, even as he carefully removed the other kites from their bags. 

There was a kaleidoscope of offerings, greens and blues and reds, with all manner of creatures poised to leap from their papery confines. Fierce birds, some noble, some with threateningly bloodshot eyes and sharp talons. Butterflies and more dragons, and each kite was quickly claimed.

With Stretch calling advice, Edge managed to get each child carefully spaced apart to keep strings from tangling and soon the sky was filled with bright shapes and their dancing tails.

When he was sure that no flight was going to end in tears, Edge returned to Stretch, who was watching him as much as the kite.

“you’re such a softie,” he teased.

“Nonsense,” Edge scoffed, even as he slipped his arms around Stretch from behind, pulling him close. “It’s for science.”

“that’s my line.” Stretch sighed and snuggled back against him. “have i told you lately that you’re wonderful?”

“I love you, too.”

“no, no. i mean, that, too, but. you’re wonderful. it’s not the same. you can love someone who isn’t wonderful but when you’re wonderful, you’re wonderful.”

“Of course,” Edge agreed, amused. He pressed a kiss in the little place between Stretch’s jaw and his cervical vertebrae, just to feel him jerk and squirm. Edge wasn’t ticklish but Stretch certainly was.

After a time, Edge coaxed Stretch silently down to sit on the grass, before he could get tired of standing. They sat there together even as other adults approached, either looking for their children or out of simple curiosity. 

In time others were sitting, laughing and chatting together in the field. Edge stayed at Stretch’s back, holding him as they all sat in peace, watching the kites dancing across the sky. 

-Finis-


	2. Good Enough (kustard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in Red’s life. Yeah, yeah, it’s like that, so what? He’s got shit to get done, thanks, and not much is gonna stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crimeny, Red, if I give you a chapter will you hush??
> 
> Watch out for the kustard in this chapter, in addition to our traditional spicyhoney.

* * *

If it were possible for skeletons to have an aneurysm, Red would bet good money on his brother having one if he ever caught sight of his room. 

Mattress on the floor covered with a haphazard mishmash of blanket and sheets, possibly even a bathroom rug. Clothes scattered around the room, on the floor, draped over chairs and hanging from the occasional nail. A litter of dirty coffee cups, each emblazoned with a saying about needing caffeine or maybe a truck stop logo on top of the dresser.

Edge might have a cerebral event but anyone in the know would be able to tell that this? Was actually an improvement. 

For one, most of the clothes were clean.

Red set his coffee cup in with the collection already on the dresser and scooped up a pair of shorts from the floor. Gave them a sniff, deeming them worthy of wearing another time. Socks he dug out of an opened plastic bag in one corner. What was the point of washing ‘em when you could buy ‘em so cheap and toss them when you were done? 

Packaged socks would be in Red’s top ten best things about coming to the surface. That and less murder, but fuck it, they couldn’t all be noble.

A t-shirt and a jacket later, and Red was ready to head downtown.

The pile of blankets on the bed chose that moment to speak up, “couldn’t bring me a cup of coffee?”

“sorry, doll, never did get that delivery service up and running,” Red deliberately picked up his own cup and drained the last swallow before shuffling it back in with its brethren. “coffee is living its best life in the kitchen, head on down.”

The blanket only shifted and roiled disagreeably. “eh, no thanks. think i’ll wait a little longer to do my walk of shame downstairs.”

“can’t call it that if you don’t have any.”

The blanket gave an amused chuckle. “yeah, you caught me. i’m loud and proud about riding your dick on the night shift.”

It was only a stupid joke. No reason to tense at that, nope, neither of them talked to anyone outside their very exclusive familial group, and even some of them were out of the loop. Blue and Papyrus, to name two, and Red figured those two wouldn’t notice if someone was fucking in full view on their sofa. Maybe only to complain about the mess.

None of this shit was getting him out the door. “i’m heading in.”

“could come back to bed.” The blanket spat out a skeletal hand, one that patted the mattress invitingly. 

“aw, what’s the matter?” Red cooed, not taking one step closer to the bed. “didn’t get enough of a workout last night?”

“maybe i want to go for the gold. c’mon, you can just lay there and i’ll play cowgirl. ride you into town, hitch you to a post, shamble into the saloon.”

Fuck, if that didn’t send a trill of magic down his spine. The thought of Sans willing to put in a little effort, all that soft blue magic, the wet heat of a soft blue pussy, getting to see his face for once with all the layers stripped away by pleasure and…Red shook the thought away stubbornly. “you’ll have the ride the dusty trail later, annie oakley.”

“you’ve got some weird names for your dick.” But the hand disappeared back into the blankets. Couldn’t tell if he actually fell back asleep or not, but eh, like it mattered. 

Red turned his back on the bed and its blankets and headed downstairs to where his shoes lay on the doormat. At least his brother would approve of that and as far as housekeeping went, it was probably all the accolades Red was gonna get.

* * *

It took a few quick shortcuts to get to his bro’s house. The distance was just enough that it started the beginnings of an ache in his soul from the magic drain, but that would fade pretty quick. 

Red leaned against the back bumper of the car, waiting. The urge to pull out a cigar was strong but Red resisted it. For one, he was nowhere near as attached to nicotine as Stretch was and two, he didn’t want to nix his chances this morning by stinking up. He knew how to weigh odds in his favor, thanks, and that was a good start. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Right on time, the door opened and his bro started out. Less expected was the unwelcome morning treat of seeing his bro hesitate in the doorway, leaning back in the same moment Stretch leaned out, and what the fuck was the honey bun doing up so early, anyway? Red didn’t really care to watch them tangle tongues and glanced away, but he did catch a glimpse of the aftermath, the softness on his brother’s face as he whispered whatever cutesy sweet nothings twisted Stretch’s crank. 

He didn’t much like the view but it was…hm. Satisfying? Yeah, satisfying to see his brother happy. Trying to keep him that way was a bitch, eh, but it wasn’t like Red had anything better to do. 

The door finally closed, after entirely too much tongue action for someone on his way to work. Red knew the second his bro caught sight of him. Not from the way he paused, nah, it was the fleeting expression of wariness than crossed his face, almost too brief to be seen.

His bro had a rare gift in keeping his emotions hidden, a good fucking talent to have, but he’d never perfected being able to hide from Red. 

“hey, boss,” Red said easily. Sometimes the urge to needle was too fucking hard to resist, bubbled to the surface like a belch that needed release. That nickname crackled briefly in his bro’s eye lights, but he didn’t ask Red to knock it off. That was a good sign.

“What do you want?” Edge said coolly. Ah, right for the throat, yeah. Like he hadn’t just been sucking face with his pretty little liability out where anyone could see it. 

“not much, just hoping to hitch a ride in today.”

“You never ask for a ride,” Edge said flatly. 

“don’t, do i,” Red agreed. “gonna tell me no?”

He wasn’t and Red knew it before his brother sighed and gestured at the car.

He shortcutted into the passenger seat, ignoring the twinge in his soul, and sprawled out. He did take a second to grudgingly fasten his seat belt. Edge was a stubborn fucker about that and wouldn’t move the car an inch unless everyone was strapped in like good little babies on board. 

His bro climbed in, fussed about getting his travel coffee mug and briefcase settled and finally sat his prissy ass down to get them rolling.

It was a little colder this morning than Red preferred to drive with the top down but he didn’t complain. The wind took the pressure out of trying to talk and it wasn’t a chat he was after, anyway.

A ride-along made for a good opportunity to get a hard look at his brother without it being filtered through a camera lens. Edge was distracted by driving and it made it a little more difficult for him to keep that mask up. Not much, but eh, Red didn’t need much. Not for his bro.

He didn’t look bad, all things considered. The stress tightening his jaw and narrowing his sockets lately was eased. Seemed like no matter how much his bro had bitched about it, his little staycation had obviously done him some good, no doubt partly due to what lay between a pair of femurs for him back at the house.

The honey bun made for an interesting conundrum. He could be a source of stress himself, when he was all het up and landing his coccyx in trouble. But usually even on his worse days, he gave Edge something to care for and it was a proven fact that Edge was simply happier with the honey bun.

Red closed his sockets and let his head fall back on the seat, let the gusting wind chill his face. 

His brother was happy, that was what mattered. In part from being away from the soul-sucking shithole that was Underfell and Red couldn’t take credit for that. But happiness also came from a slouchy, smoky pack of trouble with a shit-eating grin and HP that rivaled Red’s for most craptastic joke of the universe. That Red could claim a hand in and did, thanks, he’d busted his ass to get those two hooked together. Stretch was an okay guy on his own but in context to Edge, well. His pretty little liability was almost everything to him.

And that was fine. Red knew he himself was comfortably situated the ‘almost’ section, fully aware how much dust Edge would be willing to kick up for him. Too much, probably, but, eh, you couldn’t win ‘em all.

His brother was happy and that was the only thing that mattered. His brother _deserved_ to be happy, and Red had plenty of contingency plans to keep him that way.

Didn’t have a fucking thing to do with nightmares, never had. Edge had always been too good for Underfell, way too good for the LV burned into his soul, and if Red sometimes dreamed about that first one, of his brother’s screams, about the dust, welp, he’d earned that on his own, hadn't he. By being too slow, too shitty. And the second. And all the rest…

He wasn’t the brother Edge deserved, Red always knew that. But he was the one he got. No take-backsies on siblings, not even within the peaceful poison of this saccharine-laced world.

Red barely let the car come to a stop in the Embassy lot before he shortcutted out, not bothering with a goodbye. He had shit to get done today and his bro was doing fine, that was all he’d wanted to see.

Good enough.

-finis-


	3. Crossing the Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is Edge even surprised anymore by anything he finds when he comes home to Stretch? We may never know.

* * *

Edge knew he really shouldn't try to have any expectations of what he might come home to on any given day. If he could manage that, then maybe he wouldn't be surprised by anything he found. 

Such as the sight of Stretch on the sidewalk, walking a chicken on a leash.

Stretch waved at him as he pulled into the driveway and for a moment, Edge warred between dual urges; to go inside and start dinner, pretending he'd never seen a thing, and asking. 

In the end, his curiosity won, as it always did. He left his briefcase and climbed out of the car, walking over to them. 

Noodle was pecking at the grass by the sidewalk enthusiastically. She seemed completely unbothered by the harness she was wearing, probably well-accustomed to Stretch's costuming by now. It was colorfully emblazoned with rhinestones, like a miniature Elvis had come to their home in poultry form.

"hey, babe," Stretch said cheerfully. Warm as it was, he'd abandoned his normal hoodie for a simple t-shirt. Edge couldn't say he agreed with the sentiment emblazoned on it, but a cartoon chicken with ‘don’t cluck with me!’ written under it was far from the worst Stretch had in his closet.

"I fear I already know the answer, but what are you doing?"

"taking noodle for a walk," Stretch told him. The unspoken 'duh' was heavily implied.

Edge looked back at their driveway. By his guess, they were about four feet away from it. 

"yeah, yeah, we're not exactly winning a marathon, are we." Stretch poked a toe at Noodle gently and she took a couple steps, paused to investigate Stretch's untied shoelace, then went back to cataloging the grass. 

Edge shook his head. "Hold on." 

He went back for his briefcase and carried it inside, dropping it on the sofa. Then he ran upstairs to change out of his work clothes and into jeans and a t-shirt of his own. His t-shirts were all thankfully slogan-free, but that didn't stop Stretch's eye lights from wandering voraciously over it like he was searching for one. 

“Down, boy,” Edge murmured, neatly sidestepping the slim, bony fingers that tried to hook into the waistband of his jeans.

Nugget looked up hopefully at him as he went past the length of the leash. When he was a few feet away, he stopped to lean down, holding out a hand and crooning to her wordlessly. Eagerly, she clucked back, chasing after his feet as he backed away. 

“my husband, the chicken whisperer,” Stretch chuckled, trailing behind on the other end of the leash. His phone was in his free hand and there was little doubt that Edge’s boots were once again going to be Twitter-famous. “i’m going to get you a t-shirt with that on it.”

“They are chickens with standards,” Edge told him tartly. “And you can waste your money however you want.”

They made it halfway down the block before Noodle lost interest even in him and stopped to investigate the grass again. Edge walked back to Stretch, sliding an arm around him and peering over his shoulder at his phone. As expected, it was lighting up with alerts and messages. 

“thanks, babe,” Stretch murmured, twisting his head around enough to brush a kiss on Edge’s jaw.

“Anything for your Twitter harem.” He ignored the way Stretch’s fingertips were slyly delving into the back pocket of his jeans, tweaking at his pelvis. Instead, he stole a quick kiss, then pulled away entirely despite Stretch grumble of disappointment. 

Noodle’s clucking took on an unhappy note when he picked her up, turning back towards the house with Stretch once again trailing behind. By the occasional roaming hand that slid over the back of Edge’s t-shirt, trailing down to his jeans, he was guessing that dinner might be waiting a couple hours. 

That was fine by him. Another day of the unexpected with Stretch, and perhaps Edge would never be able to guess what he might be coming home to on any given day. 

But he was never disappointed.

-finis-


	4. After Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was both too late and too early to be awake.

* * *

When he first woke, the only thing Edge knew was that there wasn’t enough light coming in through the curtains for him to be waking up alone. Next to him, the sheets were cool, and Edge pushed up on an elbow, peering sleepily through the dark. 

The bedroom door was closed, which meant Stretch likely walked out of it some time ago. If he’d only been intending to go downstairs for a drink, he would have left it open.

His phone showed a few minutes past three am, much too early for Stretch to be awake. 

Unless something was wrong.

Edge slid out of bed, pulling on his bathrobe to head downstairs. The living room and kitchen were dark. The front porch light was on, but the steps were empty. A glance out the back door showed the faint glowing ember of a cigarette.

He took a detour to grab the blanket from the back of the sofa before stepping out.

“hey, babe.” Floated softly through the darkness. Edge heard the chickens before he saw them, clucking eagerly, and he carefully stepped through them over to the chairs. “guess i woke everyone up. sorry.”

“It’s all right.” There was no point in denying he’d woken Edge up. It was as chilly as he’d expected and a glance confirmed that Stretch was only in his own bathrobe, bare feet shoved into his sneakers. Edge tucked the blanket around him and Stretch didn’t so much as sigh in exasperation, instead snuggling into it greedily.

“thanks,” he said quietly. He shifted to pull the blanket closer around him. “didn’t mean to wake the ladies, either, but they must’ve heard the door. kicked up a hell of a fuss before i let them out.”

The ladies in question wandered off to peck at the grass when scritches weren’t forthcoming. 

Neither were any words. Stretch only sat smoking in silence, tapping ash occasionally into an ashtray. His free hand rested on the arm of the chair, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm, the bones clicking against the hard plastic of the chair.

Overhead, the moon was showing through the hazy clouds, casting its mellow glow down on them. It covered them in shadows, only the softness of their eye lights gleaming. Stretch’s were dimmed, diffused, evidence of his exhaustion. 

Silently, Edge slipped off one of his gloves and reached out, very carefully taking Stretch’s hand and stilling his nervous tapping. He felt Stretch startle, no doubt surprised at the touch of bone instead of fabric, but he couldn’t warm Stretch’s chilly hand through the barrier of a glove.

Edge felt a shudder go through him. His eye lights vanished as he closed his sockets, hand tightening briefly, almost painfully, then it relaxed.

“thanks.” It was little more than a hoarse whisper. 

Edge didn’t ask for what. For not asking? For being willing to be here? It didn’t matter. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

He didn’t say anything, just sat with him, offering what support he could.

Stretch would talk to him when he was ready. 

-finis-


	5. When You Close Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...do you dream about me?
> 
> Stretch has some sleep issues.

* * *

Mondays were always busy at the Embassy as work piled up over the weekend. Edge tried to avoid working on Saturday and Sunday whenever he could. The weekends were his time to spend at home with his husband. Stretch did the same, leaving his projects aside, whatever insanity he was working on at any given time, though they didn't usually take up as much time as Edge's work. Twelve-hour workdays were occasionally unavoidable for Edge, there was so much that needed done, but Stretch was the most important thing in his life. He deserved those two days and Edge was determined to give them to him. 

Even if it meant a busy Monday. 

On this particular one, it took him most of the day to clear his inbox, working in between meetings and conference calls. He was nearly finished when his phone rang and a glance at the screen made him frown. 

The caller ID came up as ‘The Beanery’. Stretch usually went in on Mondays, hanging around with his laptop and using the free wifi. He said the noise helped him keep his thoughts on track rather than wandering off, which, knowing Stretch was perfectly plausible. But Edge couldn’t think of a reason for a call from the business line. Perhaps he was having trouble with his own phone, it was possible. That’s what he told himself as he hit the accept call button.

“Hello?” Edge said, warily.

“Edge?”

“Debbie?” Hearing her voice did nothing to alleviate his concerns. “What can I do for you?”

“First, I’d like to stress that I’m not complaining. You boys are always welcome in the shop, any time.”

“But…?”

“But Stretch came in earlier today. He chatted for a bit and ordered a drink, but…well, he’s been sleeping in one of the booth seats for about two hours now.” He could hear noise in the background, people chatting and the burble of the machinery as she went on. “Edge, I certainly don’t mind him using the space, I’m only worried. I’d wake him myself, but I know that he’s…um…” She struggled for a word, settling on, “…sensitive. Unless you want me to?”

“No. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Thank you, Debbie.” He hung up, saving a few reports before gathering his laptop. 

If he hurried, he could be there in ten.

* * *

The bell over the door jangled loudly when he walked in, but the figure in the corner booth didn’t stir. Nor did he move when Edge walked up to him, leaning in for a better look. His skull was pillowed on his folded arms, his face mostly buried in the bunched-up material of his sweatshirt. One closed socket was visible, stains of exhaustion beneath it. 

Edge caught sight of Debbie where she was looking on worriedly and nodded to her, then leaned down to his husband. 

“Stretch?” Edge shook him gently. “Love?”

He startled so violently he nearly fell out of his seat, saved only by Edge catching him under one arm. 

“wha-babe?” Muzzily, Stretch blinked up at him. “what’re you doing here, i…” He looked around a little wildly. “what time is it?”

“After four.” Edge kept a grip on him until he was sure Stretch wouldn’t tumble out of his seat.

Stretch only blinked up at him, “fuck, really? knew i should’ve gotten the espresso shot.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking off Edge’s hand. “this isn’t horribly embarrassing or anything. i’m sorry, babe, i didn’t mean for them to drag you away from work. slept like shit last night, i knew should’ve stayed home and took a nap, but…” he trailed off, shrugging.

But he hated the limitations his HP put on him. Hated that anyone else with higher HP would have simply needed an extra coffee to go about their day when one poor night’s sleep was enough to throw off his entire schedule. 

“It’s all right, love, I wasn’t busy,” Edge lied smoothly. That Stretch didn’t question him was only a deeper sign of how tired he was. He caught the strap of Stretch’s laptop bag, slinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” 

Before they could escape out the door, Debbie ran over and hastily handed Edge a to-go cup. Edge accepted it gratefully while she turned her attention to Stretch. 

“Go home and get some sleep, sweetie,” she scolded. 

Stretch gave her a weak smile. "deb, i'm sorry--"

"Don't be silly!” She waved him off. “There was no harm done. Now go home with that handsome man of yours and put your feet up. Have him make dinner for once!"

Stretch only laughed at that, even as Edge said blandly, "I imagine I can throw something together."

In short order they were settled into the car, the scenery speeding past them. It was cool enough to keep the roof closed, and better to keep out the exhaust from the busy roads. Stretch leaned against the door rather than scooting close to Edge. His hoodie was pulled up, hiding his face, but his eye lights reflecting in the window glass.

Edge sipped his coffee as he drove, waiting.

“sorry, it’s my fault,” Stretch said abruptly. “i ran out of my meds. didn't get out to get the refill until today, so i took them late and now i'm all out of whack.”

“You could have told me. I would have picked them up for you.”

“could have. didn’t because i’m a grownup who can do grownup things, and i handled it.” All sharp edges and irritation today, then.

“You are,” Edge agreed calmly. “I never meant to imply otherwise.”

The roads were busy, the afternoon commuters filling them. He still noticed the reflection of eye lights vanishing from the window when Stretch closed his sockets. “i’m sorry, babe, i’m being an asshole.”

Not a line of thought Edge wanted to encourage. “No, you are, I believe the words were ‘out of whack’.”

“yeah,” he agreed, tiredly. 

Edge set his coffee cup in the holder, reaching out to lightly touch the back of Stretch’s hand. He turned it over immediately, twining their fingers together. 

Better. 

Halfway home, Stretch was drowsing again, his hood cushioning his skull against the window glass.

When he pulled in to their driveway, Edge only shook him gently back awake and made no attempt to guide or hold him as he shuffled into the house. An attempt to carry him would probably leave them both bleeding, if only metaphorically. Not today, with his frustrations sitting raw and exposed on the surface.

Stretch left his shoes in an untidy pile at the doorway and crawled onto the sofa, collapsing with a muffled groan. 

With some effort, Edge managed ignore that, stifling the urge to straighten them. It was entirely possible that Stretch would take it as a silent admonishment. His own shoes were lined up neatly before he walked over to the sofa on silent feet, pulling the blanket from the back and draping it over Stretch’s still form. 

He didn’t wake but he did sigh, snuggling into the soft folds.

Edge set up his laptop on his desk, working his way through reports while Stretch slept on behind him, still sipping the coffee Debbie had, in her infinite wisdom, made a venti.

Some hours later he heard the springs creak, turned enough to see Stretch sitting up and yawning.

Stretch offered him a warm, sleepy smile, “hey, babe.”

“Hello, love.” He looked better, some of his weariness eased.

“didn’t deb say something about you making me dinner?”

Definitely feeling better. Edge leaned back in his chair, raising a brow bone. “What were you planning on giving me in exchange?”

Stretch grinned slyly, ah, much better then, “whatever you’re brave enough to ask for.”

Oh, that held promise. Edge closed his laptop, detouring on the way to the kitchen to lean down and take a kiss. Stretch’s mouth was still warm with sleep and he sighed a little, tipping his head up and letting Edge deepen it.

He drew back reluctantly, but a firm grip on his tie kept him from going far. “Let me feed you and then we can discuss terms.”

“feeding me first isn’t a very good negotiation tactic.” But Stretch let go of his tie. 

Something simple seemed to be the order of the day, and Edge prepared a sandwich for each of them, along with a small fruit salad. Pushing through the kitchen door, he stopped just on the other side. Stretch was asleep again, sprawled out with one foot poking out from under the blanket. 

Edge set the plates on the coffee table, snagging half of his own sandwich and eating it in quick, precise bites. Then he nudged Stretch over enough to lay down on the sofa himself, pulling Stretch into his arms.

“humzat?” Stretch mumbled. He snuggled into Edge’s shoulder automatically, making a soft noise of contentment when Edge tucked the blanket closely around them.

“Go to sleep,” Edge murmured to him. He rested his chin lightly on top of Stretch’s skull, breathing in the sweetness of his scent and closing his own sockets.

Another hour of sleep would suit them both just fine. 

-finis


	6. Skeletons in the Closet (kustard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Red's punishment for dealing with amateurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so busy with work this week, but I got the idea for this and had to go with it. Sometimes I just amuse myself. Heads up for upcoming **kustard** next to our normal spicyhoney.
> 
> If you're reading as I am posting, this is set before 'Any Other Tuesday'

* * *

“this is a stupid fucking idea, you know,” were the first words out of Sans’s mouth as they stepped out of the shortcut. The living room was still, the lamps off, but there was enough light coming through the shades to make it easy to see. The room was neat as a pin, even the remotes were lined up on the coffee table and Red wondered, not for the first time, how the hell a neatnik like his bro and a slob like Stretch were compatible.

Years of living with him had probably given Edge a complex or a fetish or something, poor kid. It could have been worse, he guessed; at least he didn’t come down with a freaky thing for dirty socks.

“what’s stupid is that you can’t come up with a better battery for these things,” Red retorted, but there was no heat to it. The amount of fucks Red had to give today was sitting on empty and that was a fact. “changing ‘em out all the time is a bitch and a half.” 

Red crawled underneath the end table, using the flashlight on the phone to guide him as he poked at the joints. One of them held a tiny audio device and he couldn’t remember which one.

“you wanted ‘em tiny and portable," Sans said lazily. "can’t have everything, sweet cheeks. what i don’t get is why you needed two different types.”

“gotta have ones for stretch to find and ditch, so he doesn’t keep looking for the other ones.” Ah, there it was. Very carefully, he pulled out the device. It was the size and shape of carpenter nail, unobtrusive. Just as carefully, he replaced it with the new one and scooted back out. “you didn’t need to come.”

Sans snorted at that, shuffling after him as he replaced one in a picture frame. “yeah, kinda did, or i would have to come up with a spy device to spy on you installing spy devices. i like to keep my inception to one level.”

“don’t trust me?”

“you’d never respect me if i did.”

“who says i respect you now?” Red asked idly, swapping out one on Edge’s toy shelf. It seemed a little wobbly but Red shrugged mentally and moved on.

Sans scratched at his cheekbone with an upraised middle finger. “you have a pretty healthy respect for my blowjob skills.”

“i’ll give you that.”

“besides, if i tag along, i can make sure you leave ‘em in the living room and kitchen only. i know you’re a paranoid motherfucker, but that’s the furthest line i’m willing to cross. that and sound only.”

“video would be useful as fuck, you know.”

“a video feed would make them too large and a fuckton easier to track. plus, you don’t need it, j. edgar hoover.”

That was true. He didn’t, not really. If he were honest, he didn’t even use the audio devices that much. It wasn’t like he was tuning in to his daily podcast of the ‘Life and Times of the Honey Bun and the Bro’. Just every once in a while, a quick little check in to hear their voices, confirm everything was on the up and up.

Of course, if Sans would stop being a little bitch and let him put one in the bedroom, he’d be able to check nightly on their snoring but eh, he’d take what he could get.

Red opened the closet door, pushing aside coats and what looked like a raccoon costume, nope, he didn’t want to know about that. This one needed careful positioning or there was too much interference for him to hear clearly. Right on the edge of the door molding was best, and Red carefully exchanged the little device with nimble fingertips.

The sound of a key in front door made him freeze, but having Sans barrel into his back was worse. His weight pushed them both down into the shoes even as Sans scrambled for the door handle. It was barely closed when the front door opened, and he could hear Edge and Stretch’s voices, muffled through the wood.

The closet was pretty full; shoes and coats and fucking raccoon suits, and the addition of two skeletons, even short ones, made it pretty cramped. There was no good way to move and get where Sans wasn’t touching him enough to teleport out, and certainly not a way to do it quietly. Not that it mattered; they weren’t going anywhere fast. Teleporting had a very distinctive sound and since only three of them could do it, only one of whom had a legit reason to be in this house, it wasn’t like anyone would need to use a lifeline to figure out who was escaping the closet. Red was pretty good at silent shortcuts but Sans never had a reason to develop the knack. And it wasn’t like Red was going to ditch out and leave Sans here on his own, anyway.

Although the temptation was there. This is why he worked alone, fucking amateurs.

“why the fuck did you do that?” Red whispered furiously. “i could’ve come up with a reason to be in the house! the closet, not so much!”

“i panicked!” Sans retorted, “and would edge really have believed whatever bullshit excuse you gave him?”

“course not, i taught him better than that! but he would have _pretended_ to and that’s all that matters!” As carefully as he could, Red turned over, both of them sitting atop an uncomfortable pile of shoes and boots. He considered their options.

They could just walk out. Hand over some bullshit excuse even though they were way over the line of pretending to suspend disbelief. Problem was, the odds that Edge would think it was hilarious was pretty even steven with him being pissed off beyond the point of rational thought, and Red wasn’t really feeling the whole ‘verge of fratricide’ today. Plus, it might get Edge and Stretch thinking too hard about what they were really doing here, and Red wanted to avoid that, if he could.

There was nothing for it, they’d have to wait it out.

Probably wouldn’t take too long. They were home early, sure, but his bro had a routine. He’d go upstairs and get changed out of his fancy work duds and then it was off to the kitchen where he’d start whipping up something tasty for dinner. Hell, if he and Sans timed it right, they could stop back and invite themselves over for some grub. His bro always made extra and he’d invited them over for breakfast, not that it meant anything, fuck, no, and—

Oh. 

Well, shit.

From the sound that just filtered through the door, it seemed like Edge and Stretch were doing some improv off the written script.

“oh! ooh, oooh, babe, yeah..that's good...ah...”

Their eye lights were the only thing illuminating the closet. It was enough for Red to see Sans stuffing his sleeve into his mouth, stifling laughter.

“knock it off!” Red hissed. The chance of Edge being pissed off if he caught them just got much better odds, and there was that added kicker of Stretch being pissed, too. Stretch was a soft touch, saw too much of himself in Red where it didn’t really exist and sometimes that meant he’d let things slip that he probably shouldn’t. It was a good flaw for him to have and Red didn’t want to risk it by pissing him off too much.

Sans only shook his head, his entire body shaking as he tried to hold in laughter. Luckily, the faint rattle of his bones was muffled into his hoodie.

Not that anyone would hear that over Stretch. Damn but he was a loud fucker, in the literalist of terms.

Red slouched down, tugging up his jacket over his auditory canals, but it didn’t help much. All he could do was listen while those two committed horrible, raunchy crimes against nature and probably various furniture. Keerist, the next time Red came over, he was bringing a folding chair; he didn’t care how good Edge was at deep cleaning.

He forced his mind to skip over any puns on how Stretch was getting deep cleaned, his brother was giving him the whole white glove test…stop it!

Across from him, Sans shifted uncomfortably, not that there was any comfort to be found with his bro’s shoe hoarding tendencies. Red glanced over to find him trying unsuccessfully to hide the soft blue glow at his crotch.

What the fuck…? Red gestured furiously at him and Sans shrugged, unrepentant, and whispered, “hey, neither of them are my brother.” His grin widened wickedly. “got stamina, doesn’t he. shame it ain’t a family trait.”

His grin didn’t lessen one bit as Red drew a threatening finger across his throat; honestly, this was what happened when you let someone sleep over after the fucking, all your threats turned from blades to jello and jiggled their way to fail. 

Besides, if he dusted Sans now, it would wreck all these nice shoes. Probably wasn’t enough polish in the world to fix ‘em. Yeah.

It was an effort not to jerk away when bony fingers found his ankles, drifting up underneath his shorts to his femurs. Uh, no, several mentally loud, possibly shrill, levels of no. Red tried to squirm away as much as he could, but there wasn’t far to go and the shoes were piled around them precariously, like a booty trap. 

To his horror, his magic was settling in his own pelvis. His mind knew it was his brother out there trying to set a world record on Stretch’s ass, but to his boner, he was getting felt up by someone he was fucking on the regular while someone else in the near vicinity was having a very loud, very vigorously good time.

“don’t,” Red gritted out. immediately Sans stopped, pulling his hands away. Red tried to ignore the ongoing argument between his various body parts over whether or not that was a good thing. 

Sans waggled his fingers in the air, “no prob. i’m all about consent, babe. but you could use a better safe word.”

Before he could give his assessment of that, which mostly consisted of a lot of middle fingers, the noise outside rose into a energetic climax.

Whatever bullshit they were whispering soppily to each other didn’t last long. They stirred way before Red was expecting it, he was figuring on a decent amount of yabbing about being their sun, moon, sky, and French fry bullshit. Stretch must not be one for the afterglow and Red hated his mind for accepting that as a possibly useful data point.

“I should go make dinner.” Red would have given an HP point to never have heard that slurred, sated quality in his bro’s voice.

“how about a shower before you touch anything we might eat?”

“That’s unusually fussy of you, considering where you like to put your mouth.” Ugh, the emergence of his brother’s sense of humor was always deeply disturbing.

“think so? if you come upstairs, i’d be willing to put it to the test.”

Red waited, listening to footsteps and the creak of stairs until a door closed upstairs. Then he grabbed hold of Sans’s arm and dragged them both the fuck out of dodge.

Out on the sidewalk, far out of view of the house, Sans stretched in the sunlight, groaning as his spine popped. “that’s better. good to be out of the closet with you.”

It was said so lightly, it shouldn’t have sent alarm bells tripping up Red’s nonexistent nerves. “you—“

“dunno about you, but i could use a nap. something to do with your bed, anyway. meet me there, if you’re interested.” Sans smirked and vanished.

Before Red could follow him, and it was a toss up whether it was for a beating or to fuck him stupider, his phone chimed. Distracted, he looked down and his soul tightened when he saw it was from ‘Idiot #2’.

His fingers didn’t shake at all as he unlocked his phone. 

_enjoy the show? :D_

**fuck you**. Red sent back, not bothering with anything better. His phone vibrated again.

_nah, already had my daily dose in my preferred flavor. i like it sweet and you’re pretty salty. wanted to say i’ll give until tomorrow to come get any of your shitty spy gadgets out of my house. if i find even one, i’m telling him._

Red sighed internally. **deal**.

That meant Sans had until tomorrow to build him something new. Eh, well. Sans appreciated a challenge. 

But first, it turned out that Red had at least one fuck to give and Sans was waiting for it. 

-finis-


	7. Make Like a Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Stretch’s world, really. Edge is just happy to live in it.

* * *

With a brisk pull, Edge opened the sliding glass door and poked his head out, calling to his husband.

“Stretch, can you-“ he stopped.

The backyard was empty of skeletons, but the chickens were still roaming freely. The sight made him uneasy; Stretch would never leave them out of the coop when there was no one to watch them so where—

“right here, babe!”

As tall as Stretch was, that call came from much higher than he’d expected. Edge walked out to the large tree at the back of the yard and looked up.

Perhaps five feet over his head, Stretch was lounging on a wide branch, leaning against the tree trunk.

Well, that was something he hadn’t expected to see when he got up this morning. 

“Why are you climbing trees?” Edge asked, equal parts curious and wary of the answer.

“heh, climb he says. climb,” Stretch snickered.

Edge held back a smile of his own. “Yes, yes, you’re very clever. Let’s try again, what are you doing in a tree?”

“i am so glad you asked,” Stretch shifted to sit with his legs dangling on either side of the branch. “so, i saw this list online for reasons to climb a tree. said all kinds of stuff about seeing from a new perspective and connecting with nature, and discovering the diverse species within our world.”

Edge hummed thoughtfully, “And?”

“now, we both acknowledge that i didn’t climb shit, all right? But i am currently in a tree,” Stretch gestured grandly around him, “and all i can see is a lotta leaves. the only species i’ve seen are a few ants and a bird, and my only connection with nature is that this branch is doing things to my coccyx that should require a permission slip. but, eh, you couldn’t really climb the trees back in snowdin, you know? figured i needed to at least try it. especially with our tree.” He patted the rough bark of the trunk consolingly. “poor thing, it’s not the tree’s fault it’s a letdown.”

Edge considered that for a moment. Then he took a few steps back, enough for a running start that let him catch hold of the lowest branch. With a little effort, he made his way to the branch where Stretch was sitting, nudging him to scoot forward enough to allow Edge to sit behind him.

“welcome aboard,” Stretch told him, even as he snuggled back into Edge’s arms. “enjoy the leaves.”

Edge reached up and lightly touched a small knotty green bulb on the branch above them. “Do you see this?”

“yeah?” Stretch tipped his skull back against Edge’s shoulder, looking up.

“Very soon this will open, along with all others and the entire tree will be filled with flowers. And that bird? He’s making a nest and soon there will be eggs and little ones that will grow and thrive here. If you come back in a couple weeks, you may find it a more satisfying experience.”

Stretch made a soft, amused sound, his hand stroking along Edge’s forearm where it was wrapped around him. “yeah, okay, and my coccyx?”

Edge tightened his hold before pressing a messy, wet kiss against Stretch’s cheek bone, just to make him yelp and squirm. “Next time, bring something better to sit on.”

“okay, okay,” Stretch laughed, “do i need to make an appointment now or can you pencil me in later?”

“Consider my lap available to you at all times.”

“great, i’ll put it right next to that whole love and cherish thing you gave me earlier.”

The sunlight trickling through the branches was dappled over them, the breeze rustling the leaves and branches. Beneath them, the chickens were scratching and clucking, and Stretch was warm against him, seeming in no hurry to leave. 

Edge held him close, listening to the wind and Stretch’s idle humming, which sounded like the theme song to Scooby Doo. Who knew what things were running through that clever, tangled mind? Edge couldn’t begin to guess and wasn’t about to try. Eventually, if he waited long enough, Stretch always told him.

For now, they could simply commune with nature, the leaves, the birds, and for whatever reason, Scooby Doo.

There were far worse ways to spend an afternoon.

-finis-


	8. Blossoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge enjoys gardening, even when the unexpected grows.

* * *

Despite the ongoing threat of spring showers, today was thus far proving to be sunnily cheerful.

Edge was taking advantage of the good weather to sit on the front porch with a sketch pad and work on planning his garden. Most of the plants were already ordered and he wanted to map out where to put them when they arrived. Something he was very much looking forward to.

His garden had started as a window box for herbs, long before Stretch even moved in. There was no possibility of such a thing in Underfell, and the urge to have fresh herbs whenever he needed them had proved irresistible. Over the years it became more elaborate as he added a few vegetable plants, then a few flowers, until his efforts brought him here, sketching out a map of his ever-growing garden

No pun intended.

This year, the chickens were causing him to make a few adjustments. Normally he kept his herb garden by the back door where he had easy access from the kitchen. But he expected the ladies would enjoy that a bit too much and preferred to keep the little brats out of his supplies.

That was fine; he’d been researching making a tiered garden for the herbs anyway and this gave him an excellent opportunity. His former herb garden would become a patch of chicken-friendly plants, with the doubtful but persistent hope that it would raise Stretch’s interest in gardening enough to coax him into helping.

To Edge, gardening was soothing, every step of it. Out in the sunshine, carefully spacing out planting seeds or settling delicate seedlings into the soil. The rich smell of the loam as he worked with it, pulling any weeds that threatened. All of it culminated with the satisfaction of watching his hard work blossom, into flowers that could be enjoyed or food that he could use to provide for those he cared about.

He looked forward to spring every year, for the cycle to begin again.

That Stretch’s interest in plants began and ended with how they ended on his plate, well. It was a burden he had to bear.

A squeal of delight made him glance up to see Stretch at their mailbox with a padded envelope in hand.

“babe!” Edge watched in bemusement as Stretch jogged over to him, waving the envelope as he skidded to a stop, plunking down to sit at Edge’s feet. “this is such perfect timing! look what i got you!”

He thrust the package at Edge and he took it with wary curiosity. Carefully, Edge tore open the envelope, feeling inside for the contents. There was only one item and he drew it out to discover a heavy seed packet, declaring in large, colorful letters, “Grow a Surprise!”

“they’re mystery seeds,” Stretch said gleefully. “you plant them and you get a bunch of surprise plants! see here, there’s all kind of things that can be in it.” Stretch took away the packet and flipped it over, where it showed dozens of flowery possibilities. “i thought it would be fun to see what we get. maybe i could even help. a little, don’t get crazy ideas, edgelord.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Edge said blandly. He looked down at his sketch pad, the carefully plotted map of his garden. 

Then he set it aside, mentally choosing a patch where Stretch’s ‘mystery garden’ could thrive.

Planning was good and well, but some of the best things in his life had been unexpected, and he would be happy to allow a few mystery flowers to be one of them.

He settled a hand on Stretch’s skull, lightly tracing his coronal sutures as he listened to Stretch chatter about the different possibilities that might sprout for them.

A mystery, yes, well worth it for the excitement, the happiness, growing in Stretch’s soul and that was a perfect garden for Edge to tend, no matter the season.

-finis-


	9. Just a Sip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why Edge doesn't usually drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this while I was relatively drunk myself and polished it hungover, LOL.
> 
> I'll give a heads up for possible consent issues due to alcohol, but it's not more than getting a little handsy.
> 
> This was all very funny to me at the time. ^_^

* * *

Movie nights were generally a relatively wholesome affair, alternating who was choosing the film. Papyrus enjoyed superhero movies, Blue dramas, Red and Sans comedies that mirrored their senses of humor and Stretch terrible sci-fi.

Edge usually declined the opportunity to choose a movie. His attendance at these events was more for the company than the entertainment, an invitation to spend time with the family he’d found on the surface.

And his brother was very close to having his invitation revoked. Papyrus was a flawless host with plenty of food and drinks of the non-alcoholic variety. But he wasn’t a teetotaler and didn’t mind anyone else bringing a tipple. That might change in the future. 

Edge had no idea what was in the flask Red passed around the room, but the sips that everyone else had taken shouldn’t have been quite this ruthlessly effective. The movie was barely halfway through, but Papyrus and Blue were snoring in the sofa together, leaning against each other like exhausted puppies.

Red was sitting in the armchair and from his expression, this wasn’t going as he’d intended. For once, Sans was not one of the first ones asleep though it seemed to be a close thing. He was currently snuggled into Red’s lap, nearly purring with contentment while Red’s hands bobbed over him, trying to decide where to settle. Edge took a small measure of resentful pleasure at his brother’s visible discomfort, but not much. He had a lapful of problems of his own.

A very squirmy, very handsy, very attractive lapful. 

“mmmm, you smell good.” Hot breath, sweet with whatever that liquor had been, gusted over his cervical vertebrae and Edge stiffened when Stretch wriggled in his lap again. 

Stiffened, yes, he thought ruefully. In more ways than one.

“soooooo good,” Stretch’s words were soft and slurred, all his light weight pressed enticingly against Edge. At the delicate touch of tongue against his bones, Edge stood abruptly, cradling Stretch in his arms. He made a startled sound but didn’t protest, wrapping his arms gleefully around Edge’s neck. 

“I think it’s time we went home,” Edge muttered.

“yeah, you do that, bro,” Red said. He seemed resigned to his fate. He’d finally let his hand settle gingerly on Sans’s back, his eye lights flicking warily to Blue and Papyrus before drifting back to Sans. 

Edge left the four of them there, trusting that Red would keep an eye on the others and prevent any mishaps. He was an idiot, but he was a protective one, and it was a reasonable punishment for his poor life choices.

The walk from Papyrus and Sans’s home was usually only about five minutes, at his pace. That time frame did not take into account carrying a handsy spouse, and Edge spared a moment to be grateful that it was dark outside. The streetlights were easy enough to avoid and he did. Their neighbors had enough gossip for now. 

He had no idea when or how Stretch managed to sneak a hand beneath his shirt, but the sound Edge made when his pelvis was unexpectedly tweaked was embarrassingly shrill and he very nearly dropped Stretch to the sidewalk.

“Stop,” Edge said. The breathless quality to his voice seemed less than convincing to Stretch, whose clever fingertips were tracing his vertebra, skirting the waistband of his trousers that already rode low on his pelvis. There was no way for him to free a hand to swat Stretch’s away and he bit back a groan at the first sly fingertip venturing past his belt.

The rest of the journey was made at something closer to a run.

He carried Stretch through the front door, only pausing to lock it before carrying his husband directly upstairs to the bedroom to set him in the bed.

Or at least Edge attempted to set him on the bed. Stretch seemed to have an extra set of arms or perhaps it was some sort of localized teleportation because it wasn’t possible that a mere two hands could be causing so much turmoil.

“love you, edgelord.” Stretch murmured, husky and low. Edge looked down at him, at his mussed clothing, his sweatshirt skewed enough for the delicate arch of his collarbone to peek out. His eye lights were soft, diffused, and his mouth was temptation itself.

Edge leaned down, allowing himself a kiss, deep and a little desperate because Stretch was beautiful, he was _so_ beautiful, and Edge wanted him. 

Then he drew away.

It didn’t matter that he had permission, that Stretch had told him more than once that he didn’t mind. He couldn’t, not when Stretch wasn’t in his sober mind. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“Not like this, love,” Edge whispered hoarsely. Stretch only blinked owlishly and his hands loosened their hold. Almost, Edge tried to explain, to reassure Stretch, but before he could, his husband let out a jaw-splitting yawn.

“‘kay,” Stretch mumbled, sinking back on the mattress. He was already drowsing while Edge helped him pull off his sweatshirt and sneakers. The track pants he let be, tucking Stretch beneath the covers. In moments, he was snoring, the way he only did when he’d been drinking. 

Edge watched him sleeping for a moment, reached out and very lightly traced his cheek bone, down the curve of his jaw to his chin. Pressed a gloved finger gently to his mouth. 

Then he let out a shaky sigh and headed to the bathroom. He was going to take a long, cold shower before joining him.

He did hope Stretch slept well. Because tomorrow there was going to be some well-deserved payback that they could both enjoy.

-finis-


	10. Toying Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when Edge leaves Stretch without supervision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hj_skb put this idea into my head. It was too cute, I couldn't resist. ^_^

* * *

He should have been suspicious from the start. 

When Edge told Stretch he was going into town to the Asian market, he hadn't expected Stretch to want to come with him. Whatever warnings bells that should have set off had been dimmed by genuine pleasure that Stretch wanted to go with him. That pleasure turned to exasperation quickly enough as Stretch promptly abandoned him to go to another building in the plaza. 

Namely the freshly opened arcade. 

Just looking at the building with its garish neon made Edge’s socket twitch, but the moment Stretch turned pleading eye lights on him, Edge sighed and shooed him away. His own shopping wouldn’t take too long; he preferred to get his spices from local, family-run businesses than the local megamarts. Their stock tended to be better and if he was going to make Thai food for a hopeful Jeff, he would be using proper ingredients, thank you.

Although this time he’d be double-checking the level of spice versus the heat tolerance for Humans, since Antwan swore his last effort was closer to attempted manslaughter than dinner. Stretch hadn’t complained and neither had Jeff, though to be fair, Jeff had been busy desperately guzzling water.

Ah, well. Practice made perfection. 

He finished quickly and went out to the car, but it was unoccupied. A text went unanswered, but it was entirely possible Stretch missed the vibration and he would never have heard the chime in all that noise.

That meant he was going to have to wade into the fray to find him.

Wonderful.

Much as Edge tried not to judge the hobbies of others, he couldn’t help disliking this kind of electronic monstrosity. It was too noisy for him, and the lights gave him a headache, verging on a migraine.

Which naturally meant Stretch loved it and of course he would. Surrounded with young Humans whose impulse control was shaky at best? Really, it was exactly the kind of place where Stretch would want to spend his time. Edge would never try to dictate where Stretch went, but there were times he wished Stretch was more fond of parks and less of…this sort of thing.

Now if he could only find him.

The noise was like an audial assault the moment he opened the door. Machines dinging and clacking, gunfire and the occasional digital shout of ‘Finish him!’. It was appalling and Edge walked gingerly through the maze of cabinets and Humans, even the rare Monster. 

A child ran past him, hardly giving him a glance, and Edge noticed her joining a group of other children, all of them crowded around one of the machines.

More youngsters joined as he watched, and Edge sighed. Then he went to join them.

It was no surprise to see Stretch the middle of the crowd, standing in front of a clear box that seemed to be filled with a variety of plush toys. He jiggled the little joystick, shifting to peer intently through the side glass of the machine then back to the front, tapping the joystick in careful increments. As the seconds ticked down in large, red numbers at the back of the machine, Stretch finally nodded in satisfaction and hit a button. Immediately, a metal claw descended from the top, down into the pile of toys. When it rose again, one of the toys was pinched in its grip. 

A cheer rose up from the children and Edge noticed that several of the children were already holding plushies. 

The claw dropped the toy into the opening and Stretch retrieved his prize with a flourish. 

“there you go, kiddo,” Stretch tossed what appeared to be a stuffed pig to a young girl, who grinned in delight and clutched it close. Stretch grinned back at her, then caught sight of Edge. “oh, hey, babe.” His sockets widened and he fumbled for his phone. “shit, sorry, sorry, i missed your text, didn’t i.”

Edge only shook his head. “How many tries did it take you to crack the code to that?”

Stretch shrugged, “eh, not too long. gotta determine the claw strength, the position, keep tabs on the toy depth. Took me, i dunno, like a hundred bucks to get it down pat.”

“You could have bought all these for that much money,” Edge pointed out.

“it’s not the same! it’s the glory of the hunt!”

“You’re hunting stationary objects in plain sight. Even Easter eggs wear a disguise.”

“yeah, yeah,” Stretch turned back to the machine. “hey, i’m about out of cash. can i steal a twenty?”

“You haven’t played enough?” Edge groaned. There was already a throb starting inside his skull, pulsing in time with the jangling machines.

Stretch gave him a crooked smile. “could be. you gonna tell them?”

Abruptly, Edge realized there were at least half a dozen toyless children standing around them, watching them with wide, hopeful eyes. He sighed and reached for his wallet.

Stretch snatched the twenty happily, but instead of putting it in the machine, he crouched to reach into his bag, scrounging inside it. “don't worry, babe, i already got one for you."

"I'll try to contain my excitement." But even he couldn't help chuckling at the toy Stretch pulled out of his bag. It was a plush chicken, with black button eyes and a bright red comb. 

“hope you don’t mind,” Stretch held it up, making it do a little dance in the air, “i already named it for you. meet pot pie.”

“you are demented,” Edge told him, fondly. But he took the toy. It was surprisingly soft and squashy. He held it while Stretch put the bill into the machine, swiftly manipulating the crane into the pile of toys and a grinning alligator rose with it. 

Edge only watched for a moment longer before turning away. He and his chicken could wait for Stretch outside. 

-finis-


	11. Broken Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch told himself later that he should have noticed on the ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this is sort of a sequel to the previous drabble, 'Toying Around'. Crysta-cub requested this one and I loved the idea. 
> 
> Hurt/comfort ahead!

* * *

If Stretch thought about it, he should’ve noticed it on the ride home. Edge’s normal granny driving became razor-precise, coming to a complete stop at every intersection, making no attempt to blow through the yellow lights. Not that Stretch ever paid close attention, it wasn’t like he was a good judge of the rules of the road. But he absently noticed it whenever he looked up from his phone, and it was only after they got out of the car and Edge handed him the grocery bags right in the driveway that he realized why.

“Can you put these away, please? I need to lay down,” Edge told him, quietly.

“sure,” Stretch said, slowly. He took the bags, more than a little confused. Until he gotten a good look at Edge. His left eye light was shrunken to a pin prick, the other wide and diffused, which was a pretty clear fucking sign that a migraine was currently throbbing its way through his skull. No wonder he’d been so damn careful, he’d been trying to hold it together until they got home. 

He watched a little helplessly as Edge turned abruptly on heel and walked away without another word, and probably no one but Stretch would have noticed the way he staggered, just a little, as he walked through the door.

Stretch pressed a hand against his chest, right over his aching soul, and followed him.

It was kinda hard to resist the urge to cram the entire bag into the fridge, but Stretch managed. Not like Edge needed to deal with that when he was feeling better. The spices he lined up on the counter; there was no way he was going to attempt to follow Edge’s militant system for that cupboard. Produce went in the crisper and he hoped that’d do it. 

Then he went upstairs as quietly as he could.

The room was darkened, the curtains already pulled, and Edge was curled up in the middle of the bed. On the side table was an open medicine bottle of the tablets Alphys gave Edge to help. They worked, but it took a while, and even those only dulled the pain.

Fuck, but he hated this. He had his own problems, sure, fucking HP, and that was a pain in the ass to deal with, but if Edge felt half as helpless, as lost, as he did when he saw the person he loved in pain, then still managed to turn around and deal with it as well as he did, well, he was a hell of a lot stronger than Stretch even imagined. And he imagined a lot. 

This was his fault, of course. His fucking fault, for wanting to go to the arcade in the first place. Sure, he’d wanted to check it out, but he knew those lights and the noise could set Edge off and if he hadn’t been so intent on trying to win that fucking chicken, if he’d paid attention to his phone—

“I can feel your guilt from here,” Edge whispered. Soft as his voice was, it carried to Stretch, and he flinched away from it. “Please, don’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

It was. He didn’t say it, couldn’t make Edge hurt worse. It was just like him to try to make Stretch feel better while he was laying there in pain, and how could Stretch argue with him that he was wrong? It was his fault, all his.

Only, Edge was always too damn good at hearing what he didn’t say.

“It wasn’t,” Edge said, very soft but insistent. “It was already coming. It’s possible the lights brought it on faster, but it didn’t cause it.” He opened his sockets, barely more than a slit, the faintest glow of crimson showing. “I’ll rest better knowing you’re not fretting, love.”

Stretch swallowed hard, mumbled as softly as he could, “‘kay.”

The soft red glow disappeared as Edge closed his sockets and sank back into the bed. 

Welp, he couldn’t promise there would be no guilt, but at least he could do whatever he could to help. Stretch took a moment to make sure the curtains were closed tightly. He went downstairs for a glass of water, lukewarm, not cold, to set on the side table and a small trash can for next to the bed. Migraines made him nauseous sometimes and Edge would be mortified if he was forced to vomit on the floor.

Edge whimpered softly while Stretch was setting them down and his soul clenched to hear it. He doubted Edge was even aware he was doing it.

But there wasn’t anything else he could do, because making a time machine to go back and stop Edge from going into the arcade would take too long.

Probably better if he slept downstairs on the sofa. Sometimes Edge liked him there but frankly, Stretch was a restless sleeper and him rocking the bed like a paper boat on the ocean wasn’t gonna help.

He paused, trying to think of anything else. The room was dark, but something caught his eye lights when Stretch started to turn away. Edge looked like he was holding something, not the blanket, he was laying on top of it, what the hell…Stretch crept closer to look.

Oh.

That damned stuffed chicken was in his arms, clutched tightly, his face half-pressed against the soft plush.

Stretch sighed to himself and couldn’t hold back a smile. The guilt aching in his soul eased, just a little, and hey, it was probably his penance that there was no way he could get a picture of Edge cuddling with a stuffed chicken without waking him. 

Eh, his memory of it would do just fine.

Edge’s phone was sitting on the end table and Stretch stole it with no shame whatsoever. Having that ring next to his head? May as well jab him with a metaphorical ice pick because Stretch knew he’d try to answer the fucking thing and part of his job as second-best husband ever was keeping his idiot baby from hurting himself.

Besides, Stretch did have a double agent on his side.

Down in the living room, he hummed to himself as he hacked Edge’s password. A quick scroll through his contact list took him to the number he wanted.

“janice?” Stretch kept his voice quiet, glancing up at the bedroom door he’d left open. “yeah, it’s me. listen, he’s probably not going to make it in tomorrow. yeah. yeah, it’s a bad one. think you can reroute his calls for the night? as we speak, right. thanks, you’re a sweetheart. tell your kid i said hi, okay? don’t worry, i will. okay. bye.”

He only just caught himself before he tossed the phone on the coffee table. Instead, he set it down gently and turned on the television, keeping the volume all the way down and the subtitles on. 

The sofa didn’t feel as comfortable as it usually did. Stretch curled up anyway, wrapping his arms around one of the throw pillows as he settled in to watch a few Masterchef reruns. And to keep an ear out in case Edge needed him. 

-finis-


	12. Sharing Your Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are times that Stretch really regrets that he refuses to allow Red to install surveillance cameras in their house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, this is the third (and final!!) in my unexpected chicken plushie trifecta. 
> 
> Make sure you’ve read the two previous drabbles, Toying Around and Broken Toys, first.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

It was dark outside when Stretch woke. The tv was still on, casting its eerie glow over the living room as Netflix silently cycled through a round of trailers for a zombie mom eating brains. 

He blinked drowsily, looking around in confusion. Then he heard the stairs creak, possibly again if that was what woke him.

“babe?” Stretch asked, sleepily.

For an answer, most of the blankets on their bed came shuffling around the bannister, headed his way. Stretch watched the comforter approach, stopping next to the sofa to tell him, “Scoot over.”

Stretch scooted and allowed the Edge-filled comforter to flop down next to him with enough force to bounce him a few inches into the air.

When he came back down, he carefully pulled aside the folds of the comforter to find his husband’s skull. Edge winced a little and Stretch hastily turned off the tv, pitching the living room into darkness.

As quietly as he could, Stretch asked, “you okay?”

“Better,” Edge replied, which wasn’t a yes, but it was in the general vicinity of one. Then, in a betrayal that Stretch could have wailed to the skies, Edge chose that moment to add in a sleep-husky voice, “Pot Pie missed you.”

“why do you always come up with the best lines when no one else is around?” Stretch groaned. He couldn’t get under the comforter with the way Edge was wrapped in it, so he settled for snuggling up tightly behind him, basking in the warm weight in his arms.

“Who else would be worthy of hearing it?” Edge asked, and well, hey, add points on to Edge’s Good Husband scorecard. There was a rustling sound and then overtop Edge’s side poked the head of a stuffed chicken. “Cluck, cluck.”

For a brief second, Stretch’s mind refused to accept it. It wasn’t possible that just happened, not in this universe or the next. But the little dancing plush was undeniable and only Stretch was there to see it.

“you’re killing me, babe,” Stretch told him with great sincerity. “you’re genuinely killing me.”

“I’m not as good at puns as you, so I’ll have to _wing_ it. I didn’t set an alarm _cluck_ , how long were you out here watching _chick_ flicks? You don’t need to cry _fowl_ , love, I have a lot of _hen-durence_. In fact-“

He fell silent when Stretch pressed a hand over his mouth, but he could feel the shit-eating grin beneath his fingers. Pot Pie vanished again beneath the blankets, stealing what should be Stretch’s rightful spot in Edge’s arms.

Fuck, but he loved Edge so much.

Stretch nuzzled a soft kiss against the back of Edge’s skull and whispered with all the love bursting in his soul, “you’re such a brat.”

Through his fingers, Edge mumbled, “I’m your brat.”

“damn right you are.” He let Edge pull his hand away, straining his head back to steal a real kiss before settling back with a sigh. “you want to go back to bed?”

Edge only sighed again and squirmed a little closer. It sort of squashed Stretch between his husband and the back of the sofa, and he could give a shit. “This is fine.”

Yeah, Stretch decided, working both his arms around Edge to tug him, his blankets, and the damned stuffed chicken even closer.

It was pretty damn fine.

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should check out this completely adorable comic that yesiamkiwi made for this!
> 
> [ Please look at it and give the creator some love!](https://yesiamkiwi.tumblr.com/post/184820556512/psst-hey-keelywolfe-its-kiwaid-this-is-the)


	13. Sweet Nothings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are remembered, some never forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess it's a drabble sort of week.

* * *

Somehow, over the months since Stretch moved into his, no, their house, Saturday mornings had slowly turned into baking day. Edge loved baking; delicate cookies, sweet muffins, and savory breads. Any and all of it, and when he could, he spent that morning mixing, kneading, creating delicious treats of flour and yeast. On Saturday mornings, his kitchen awaited him.

Whenever he managed to escape from the bedroom, that was. 

Stretch was still in bed, sleeping off a little morning exertion, and as difficult as it was to pull himself away when he was so beautifully drowsy and sated, Edge knew he wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep. Instead, he went to the kitchen and in only a couple of hours, the results of his labor were lined up on the counter. Cloth-covered bowls of rising bread dough, cooling racks filled with a weeks-worth of breakfast muffins, enough to share with any guests who may stop by or for Edge to bring extras to the office. 

He was up to his elbows in sweet, buttery dough when the kitchen door swung open. Stretch shuffled in, wearing a pair of Edge’s pajama pants and his own bathrobe, slippered feet scuffing against the floor. There was a fair chance that he wasn’t yet completely awake and from his sleepy blinking, Edge was leaning towards not.

“Hello, love,” Edge said, glancing up from rolling out the dough. Stretch only stood there in the doorway, watching him. Edge paused, concerned, “Are you all right?”

“yeah," Stretch said it almost absently, tilting his head to the side. “see, every time i take a nap or go to bed at night, i get to wake up and remember that i’m married to you.” A slow, sweet smile crossed his face and the sight of it made soft affection pulse in Edge’s soul. “i was just trying to figure out how i got that lucky.”

Edge returned that smile with a gentle one of his own as he carefully placed the cut outs on a baking sheet. “Simple, by being as wonderful as you are.”

Instead of laughing at that, Stretch looked outraged. He shook his head, yanking out one of the kitchen chairs and spinning it around to straddle it. “no, no, no, you don’t get to play one up with me on this!” he scolded. “i’m being all romantic and shit right now, accept my love!”

“Consider it duly accepted,” Edge chuckled. He slid the baking sheet into the oven and set the timer. “Did you want a cookie?”

“uh, yeah? is this really a question that needed asking?”

From one of the cooking racks, Edge plucked up one of the frosted rounds, skirting around the island to stand in front of Stretch. He held out the cookie, only to pull it back when Stretch reached for it. Instead, he held it in front of his husband’s mouth, smirking at Stretch’s expression. 

“Open up,” Edge told him lightly.

Stretch parted his teeth, allowing Edge to press the little cookie between them, and bit down. The delicate crisp crumbled into his mouth and Stretch made an appreciative sound, chewing happily and mumbling through crumbs, “what was that?”

“A lemon-honey drop,” Edge bent down and kissed him, heedless of any scattered crumbs. “You like it?”

“hmm, it was only my two favorite flavors, combined into my favorite treat by my favorite cook,” Stretch shrugged and smirked. “it was okay.”

“Well, if you don’t like it—”

It was just like him to teleport only as far as another chair, facing forward this time. Fingertips hooked into the back of Edge’s apron strings, tugging him down to sit in Stretch’s lap. He nuzzled at Edge’s cervical vertebra, his breath warm, “nope, now i’ve tasted ‘em, you can add those to your weekend list.”

“If I added everything you like to my list, I’d never get out of the kitchen.” Edge allowed him one more kiss then slipped free, ignoring Stretch’s whine of protest. “You can have cookies or kisses, not both.”

“fine, fine,” Stretch grumbled. He stood up with a groan and shuffled back towards the door. “gonna lay down on the sofa. if i fall asleep, i get to wake up again and remember i’m married to you.”

“Always,” Edge told him softly. “Sleep well, love.”

The door swung shut behind Stretch and Edge returned his attention to his cookie dough. Not before taking a moment to add the recipe into his collection for Saturday mornings.

Stretch might like to wake and remember that they were married, but Edge never forgot.

-finis


	14. A Little Fowl Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no such thing as a normal day, not living with Stretch.

* * *

It was never a surprise to come home and find Stretch in the backyard with the chickens, particularly with the weather finally warming up. No, that was never a surprise. What he was doing on any given day, on the other hand—

“Are you giving her a bath?” Edge asked, bewildered. Stretch barely glanced at him. 

“um, yeah.” The _obviously_ remained unspoken, but it was still very present. 

Which was fair since it was perfectly obvious that was exactly what Stretch was doing. There were two basins of water side by side on the ground and Stretch kneeling next them, up to his elbows in the one filled with both soapy water and Nugget.

“Apologies for stating the obvious,” Edge stepped outside, closing the sliding door behind him, “but to be honest, I didn’t really consider that you could give chickens a bath.”

“me, either,” Stretch flashed him a grin, pouring a cupful of suds over Nugget. “luckily, this is just the sort of situation they created google for. as it turns out, you can bathe chickens if necessary, and it's a good thing because i don’t know what the hell this little brat got into, but it was stuck all over her feathers.” 

Nugget didn’t seem to be minding the attention. Her little eyes were closed, and she was making the contented little coos she always did whenever she was successful in pestering someone for scritches. 

Noodle and Dumpling were less happy about the situation, either because of their friend being in the water or the lack of attention for themselves. They were clustered around Stretch, nudging at his arms and their distraught clucking was increasing in volume by the moment. 

“would you pay attention to them so i can finish this?” Stretch called with exasperated amusement, raising his voice to be heard over their racket. 

Edge shook his head and crouched down, clicking his tongue and calling to them, “Ladies!”

Immediately, they came running, clamoring over each other in an effort to be first to him. He only chuckled, smoothing his gloved hands over them and ruffling their feathers as the cacophony lessened to delighted chuffs.

“if i had any sense, i’d be jealous.” Stretch poured water over the sudsy Nugget. She seemed less appreciative of that and loudly cackled her annoyance.

“Of them or me?” Edge gave in and sat on the grass, allowing the two chickens to settle into his lap. It was a difficult fit and neither wanted to share, but the risk of losing his affections formed an uneasy alliance between them. 

“probably both,” Stretch mused. “i mean, you do give the best petting.”

“Feeling neglected?” Edge raised a brow bone at him. “I’d like to think I give you plenty of petting.”

“you do. petting, fondling, groping, all the good stuff.” Stretch shot him a wink and a leer as he lifted Nugget from the water and into a large towel. “never say no to a little more, though.”

Before he could reply to that, or better yet, extend an offer, he blinked in surprise as Stretch carried Nugget over to the porch. There was a bright orange extension cord coming from one of the outdoor outlets and he only realized what it was for when the noise started. “Are you blow drying that chicken?”

“yep, and you have no idea what kind of looks you get as a skeleton buying a hair dryer. should’ve bought like, a six-pack of vaseline and a spatula with it, really give them something to talk about.” Nugget didn’t seem to mind the rush of warm air ruffling her feathers, allowing Stretch to turn her this way and that until she was fluffed and dry. Soon enough, Stretch turned it off and set her back on the ground, watching in satisfaction as a shiny clean chicken ran off to join her companions. 

Edge gently pushed the other two off his lap, ignoring their desolate clucks, and all three of them were once again roaming their grassy backyard. 

“there!” Stretch pressed his hands into the small of his back, groaning as his spine popped, then he wandered over to the basins. “maybe they can stay out of trouble for two minutes.”

Edge followed him, tucking his hands into his pockets and watching as Stretch dumped out the basins. “You’re good with them, you know. You always have been.”

“you don’t have to sound surprised,” Stretch said wryly.

“I—" wasn’t, Edge couldn’t say. Because it wasn’t true, was it. He’d always expected to take over their care eventually, as soon as Stretch was bored or distracted. 

Instead, he ended up watching as Stretch flourished with the effort, always diligent in his care for them. Not once had he forgotten to feed them, even made the arrangements himself for someone, usually Papyrus, to care for them when he’d been in the hospital. His Instagram was filled with pictures of his ladies and their refrigerator had a special place for the eggs he gathered daily. 

It was sobering and unsettling to think that he’d doubted Stretch that way.

“I’m sorry,” Edge said. His quiet sincerity made Stretch pause, looking at him with confusion, but before he could ask, Edge kissed him with as much genuine apology as his words and an equal measure of love. Stretch didn’t need to hear his explanation and Edge had no desire to hurt him that way, not for the world.

Stretch melted into the kiss almost immediately, sighing happily, even as Edge drew back enough to pepper his face and mouth with soft pecks. His laughter was a bright spot of joy. 

“gonna share your petting with me now?” Stretch asked impishly. 

His reply trailed away as he looked over Stretch’s shoulder and his dismay must have shown on his face because Stretch frowned and turned to look. There, in one of the corners, Nugget was rolling happily in a muddy patch, her feathers already matted and splotched with filth. 

“you little brat!” Stretch groaned. Nugget flapped her wings gleefully, sending a fine muddy spray over Dumpling and Noodle, ignoring their loud clucks of dismay. 

Edge couldn’t help chuckling, even as Stretch dropped his head down on his shoulder, muttering a foul (fowl?) string of curses.

“Would you like a hand bathing your little ones, daddy?” Edge asked politely. 

“yeah, i would, if you promise never to call me that again,” Stretch grumbled. He turned on the faucet, filling the tubs with water as Edge walked over to retrieve their first well-cared-for victim.

-finis-


	15. Finding Inner Peas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge doesn't actually need help in his garden, thank you.

* * *

Edge set aside his trowel, wiping away sweat on his forehead with the back of his gardening glove. In front of him, the garden bed was finished, the plants carefully settled into the ground with grid-like precision. That finished his vegetable planting and while Jeff might be horrified at the amount of tomato plants, there were plenty of others he’d surely appreciate. Come late summer, there would also be a variety of peppers, carrots, cucumbers, and sweet peas. Plenty of food to share. 

His bones ached pleasantly from the exertion and he sank back to sit on the grass, leaning on his hands and looking over at the other side of the yard to his…helpers, he supposed, might be a way to phrase it. 

That morning as he was getting ready to begin working on his spring planting, a scattered knock on the door revealed a collection of Stretch’s regular minions, all of them dressed in old, patched clothing and carrying a variety of trowels and buckets, both plastic toys and ones obviously borrowed from parents. 

Their shining, eager faces had made him hesitate on his original impulse, which was to send them away; he didn’t _need_ any help for this, thank you. Before he could think of a gentle way to say that, Stretch came clambering down the stairs, wearing an old pair of Edge’s jeans that hung low enough on his pelvis to show a frankly enticing amount of bone and a t-shirt that declared in large, joyful letters, ‘I am a dirty garden hoe’

“hey, kiddos!” Stretch said cheerily. His hands were already encased in garishly pink gardening gloves, a trowel held firmly in one. “you ready to get helping?”

A chorus of cheers rose and Stretch turned to Edge and gave him a sloppy salute with his non-troweled hand. “your troops are ready, sir!”

Edge looked at all of them mutely, thinking of his already re-designed garden, the carefully planned plots. Enthusiastic expressions looked back and Edge shook his head with a faint smile and a sigh. “All right, then, I suppose I could use some help digging up the beds.”

A few hours later and the group of them were sitting next to a single, somewhat haphazardly planted bed. A hand-drawn sign was attached to a stick in front of it, declaring it to be the Garden of Mystery and the seeds were carefully sown according to the package directions. It stood out amongst the careful precision of his own finished beds, messy and wild, the uneven lines winding their own path. Much like the person who’d helped plant it. 

His muddy ‘troops’ were all sitting on the grass, their tools abandoned and from what Edge could see, Stretch was teaching them how to use a blade of grass as a whistle with mixed results. His pink gardening gloves were abandoned amongst the trowels and the long, white bones of his hands moved animatedly as he talked, too far away for Edge to hear him. There was a smear of dirt on his cheek bone and his eye lights were as bright and shining as the sunshine overhead. 

Edge leaned on his elbows, sprawled in the warm afternoon light, and watched them. Soon, he’d go inside and make a quick batch of lemonade, raid his supply of baked goods for treats for his worthy troops before he finished planting the last of his garden beds. Tonight, they’d all likely be going to bed early and sleeping well, and the spoils of their labor would be revealed in the weeks to come. 

For now, he climbed to his feet with a groan. The movement caught Stretch’s eye light and he gave Edge a saucy wink before blowing him a kiss. Only to have his troops mirror him, sending a barrage of blown kisses in his direction. 

Edge staggered and pretended to fall to the ground, sprawling out again on the grass. Childish giggles filled the air and another deeper laugh that rose over the rest of them. 

“sorry, babe,” Stretch called to him. His grin was brilliant, filled with his delight.

Edge rolled back to his feet, walking over to tell them all sternly, “Be more careful with those.”

More giggles rose up, a collection of small faces flushed with laughter and sunshine. Edge rubbed the smudge from Stretch’s cheek bone before leaning down to steal a quick kiss, ignoring the giggles turning to groans. 

The audience doused any urge to linger and Edge straightened, saying, “If all of you would like to wash up, I may have a snack for you.”

Immediately, his troops clambered to their feet, racing for the hose. Their turned backs gave him a moment for another, deeper kiss and Stretch’s eye lights were soft and hazed by the time he drew back.

“Wash your hands,” Edge told him with great tenderness before he walked away. 

“love you, too,” Stretch called after him and Edge only laughed to himself, absently cataloging what he had in the kitchen. 

Of all the troops he’d led in his life, his gardening soldiers were absolutely the best and their payment was well-earned. They might work cheap, but he couldn’t fault their determination. 

And besides, come fall they’d likely be taking at least some of the spoils back home to their parents. Zucchini stopped for no Man or Monster, and a war waged with bread, cookies, and vegetable noodles was one worth fighting.

-finis-


	16. Scrambling For a Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes life gave you a gift. All you have to do is (egg) roll with it.

* * *

Stretch didn’t intend to spend too much time in the lab, not on a Saturday. Usually he set a ban on labtime when Edge was off, but eh, he was in the middle of a big experiment. Still, he went through the work quickly before taking a shortcut back upstairs, already thinking of the many things he wanted to do today. The important shit, like nap, nap with Edge, cuddle with Edge, have some damn dirty sex with Edge—

Catching Edge coming down the stairs with Noodle in his arms was not on his list for the day, but hey, sometimes you stumbled across unexpected gifts. 

"what're you doing?" Stretch asked, because this was something new and interesting. He needed the scoop on when the chickens became indoor pets, for sure, and what rules were involved so he could decide if and when to break them.

Edge visibly startled, enough that Stretch took a couple steps back with a shortcut crackling within easy reach. Startling Edge was bad for life expectancy and he'd probably commit seppuku or some shit if he accidentally murdered Stretch in the hallway just because his coffee made him a little extra jumpy today.

Luckily, it seemed like ritual suicide was off the table for the day. Edge shifted Noodle uncomfortably in his arms. She only settled in contently with a rustle of feathers, unconcerned that she was in their house, probably wondering when someone was going to offer her the wifi password.

"I--" Edge started, trailing off. He opened his mouth again, only to close it without making a (heh) peep.

Stretch only stuck his hands in his pockets and waited. Watching Edge trying to come up with a good cover story was great entertainment, it really was. He was shit at lying and usually didn't bother, but it would seem whatever had him lugging a happy little chicken around the house wasn't something he wanted to readily admit to. It was generally Stretch’s experience that people only invited chicken through the front door for dinner and not the kind that gave them a seat at the table. But nah, there was no way Noodle was about to live up to her namesake, so what the hell?

In a minute, Stretch was going to accuse him of having an affair, just to watch him splutter.

To give Edge some credit, he lasted longer than Stretch would have guessed, struggling for an excuse before the inevitable collapse into honesty. Now, see, this was why you planned ahead; a good cover story took time and Edge should’ve had one waiting in the wings (heh) before he ever roped himself a chicken.

“There was a spider,” Edge said, finally, each word bitten off. A ruddy flush of embarrassment rose in his cheek bones and now the dominoes were falling into place, sort of. Edge didn’t exactly like to admit to any weakness and his spider-phobia fell into the Indiana Jones sort of mythology. If they ever had to dig up buried treasure to save the world, tarantulas would be a great deterrent. 

Okay, so, spider. But for every question that answered, about two more clucked into place. “yeah…i’m following, right up to the point where you thought spider-man needed a chicken as a sidekick.”

“Chickens eat spiders.”

Well, yeah, they did, they ate all kinds of bugs in the yard…it clicked so hard that Stretch almost imagined a lightbulb should flash over his skull. Holy jumped up jerrycans, Edge went outside and snagged himself a chicken to deal with a spider, he actually carried a chicken _into their house_ , grave as a judge, to eat an arachnid intruder, and that was the best fucking thing Stretch had heard all fucking day.

And he couldn’t crack so much as a smile because Edge was already embarrassed and ashamed, fuckity fuck.

“yeah, they’re little bug vacuums, for sure.” Stretch was pretty damn proud at how even that came out. See, he could do sympathy, he was all kinds of empathetic and shit. “here, let me take her for you.” 

Edge handed Noodle over without protest despite her desolate clucks at being abandoned by her favorite skeleton for the distant second. 

“yeah, yeah, sorry, i know i’m not as good at your boyfriend there.” Stretch patted her gently until she grudgingly gave in. He gave Edge a little side eye, considering. The urge was there to ask if Edge was all right, but his blush was fading. Probably better to let it go, yeah, he was gonna keep up that husbandly empathy and—

Only to suck in a startled breath as Edge abruptly grabbed a fistful of the front of his t-shirt and yanked him a step forward, kissing him hard with no regard to Noodle’s squawk at being caught between them. A hot, fierce press of mouths, with a delicious underlying tenderness, damn, and stars were sparkling in his vision by the time Edge let him go. 

He cupped a hand around the back of Stretch’s skull, pulling him down a couple inches until their forehead rested against each other. 

“Thank you,” Edge murmured, and it probably wasn’t because Stretch was playing chicken courier for him.

“it’s all good, babe.” As subtly as he could, he shifted his hips, trying to ease the pressure at his fly. Down, boy, Noodle didn’t need any more demonstrations. “you wanna, um, cook something for a while?”

Edge nodded, yeah, seemed like a little stress release was on the table after his ‘why did it have to be spiders’ moment. But Edge gave him a little pinch on the backside before he walked away, firm enough to make Stretch have to reach down and adjust himself, not even bothering with discretion. Noodle was a pal, she didn’t care if they got a little frisky. 

“c’mon, darlin’,” Stretch told her, carrying her to the back door. “movie’s over, credits are rolling. you’ll have to find more bugs outside.” 

Time for Chicken Adventuretime to end. It looked like it was time for a cooking show, and, hell, if Stretch got lucky, maybe he’d get to be the main course. 

-finis-


	17. Rained Out (mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, these things happen to the best of us, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is adult, but in a sort of minor sexual mishap sort of way. I'm not talking about any severe trauma, heck no, not with these two, but eh, I think most sexually-active people have been here once or twice. Kind of embarrassing? Sure. But good partners should be able to work through it. 
> 
> I don't think I've ever read a story with something quite like this in it, but it felt important to me to show our boys dealing with adversity. So to speak. ^_^

* * *

Stretch was always beautiful to him. It was true with every smile, every laugh, when his depression made him sleepless, darkened shadows deepening beneath his sockets, Edge was helpless to find him as anything except beautiful. Whether he was napping on the sofa or chasing the chickens around the yard, even sitting on their porch steps, smoking a cigarette. Every part of him was beautiful, to him.

And now, sprawled out beneath him with his head straining back, moans spilling from between his parted teeth, he was as lovely as could be. Edge drove into him harder, following the jerky hitch of his hips as Stretch tried to move with him, losing rhythm as he fell into pleasure, and he was beautiful, so beautiful— 

“ouch!!”

That sudden, pained yelp froze him, the heat of his desire turning to ice. “Are you all right?”

Stretch didn’t answer, his pretty face twisted in pain and Edge withdrew immediately, sitting back on his heels. He was already standing, scrabbling for his trousers and ready to scoop Stretch up and drag him to his brother or the hospital when Stretch flailed out and caught hold of his arm, stilling him. 

“easy, mamma bear! i’m fine, just caught a bad angle there.” He rolled to his side and pressed a hand between his legs with a wince. “give me a sec, yeah?”

Edge sank down to sit on the side of the bed as he waited, struggling for patience. It was difficult with his soul raging like a storm, demanding he do _something_. The urge to do a Check was irresistible in the face of Stretch’s discomfort and Edge swallowed back his guilt and gave in. As it washed over him, Stretch grimaced and shot him a quelling look, but didn’t protest. His HP was untouched, at least.

“okay,” Stretch sighed finally. “okay, that’s fine. i’m good, babe.” It was difficult to believe him when he didn’t move, his hand still pressed between his legs. 

“Let me see.” Edge tried not to make it a demand. He trusted Stretch to know himself, his own body and his limits, and yet, his soul was agitated, aching, thundering in his rib cage, he needed to be sure, he needed—

With a sigh, Stretch flopped on his back and let his knees sag apart. “sure, why not. take a picture for your scrapbook while you’re down there.”

A little stiffly, Edge said, “I only want to—”

“i know,” Stretch said. His smile was lopsided, but warm. “i get it. go ahead, look me over. see if i need an oil change, yeah? change the wipers, check the brakes…”

He droned on while Edge shifted to kneel between his legs. His magic was a vivid translucent orange, formed into the soft folds this time. Stretch wasn’t particular about his genitals and would summon whatever he deemed suitable. Either, both, Edge had learned to roll with whatever he found when Stretch dropped his trousers, and it was always beautiful. 

Very lightly, Edge ran his gloved thumb over the delicate ectoflesh, hesitating when Stretch sucked in a sharp breath. 

“no, it’s okay. just startled me.” Stretch rolled his hips encouragingly and Edge carefully touched him again. He couldn’t be as clinical as he wished, he loved Stretch too much for that, but he could be thorough. His concern seemed misplaced in this case. Stretch’s cunt was as lovely as ever and there was no visible injury aside from a slightly darkened color, bruising, perhaps? If so, dissipating it would ease the pain, but it didn’t heal the injury, that would take time, and Edge should have been more careful, should have paid attention to the angle and—

Fingertips brushed his skull, pulling him from his thoughts. From the resignation in Stretch’s smile, he knew from Edge’s expression what he was thinking. 

“i’m fine, babe,” Stretch said, gently. “really.”

Edge swallowed hard. He was, it was barely more than a bruise. And yet. “I’m s—“

Two fingers pressed to his teeth, silencing him. “nope. no apologies for mutual accidents. it happens, okay, and it kinda sucks, but no one is permanently hurt, and everything is obee kaybee, yeah?” When Edge said nothing, Stretch gave him an exaggerated scowl, glaring at him. “yes?” 

“Yes,” Edge agreed finally, with a sigh. Stretch wasn’t wrong, but it was difficult to convince his soul of that.

“awesome,” Stretch finally dissipated his genitals with a groan. “welp, the game was called for rain, but we can still have fun, right?”

"Um." Edge's arousal had vanished with the first 'ouch' and he was very sure it wouldn’t be returning this night. 

Stretch only grinned. He reached down to snag the comforter, pulling it and Edge against him, squirming so that he was snuggled into Edge’s arms. With a little effort, he managed to get both Edge’s arms and legs around him, caging himself in beneath the blankets. 

"see?" Stretch sighed. "this is nice, too." He twisted his skull until he could look at Edge, offering him that sweet smile.

“It is,” Edge agreed. He ducked his head to steal a soft kiss. Holding him eased the last of the agitation in Edge’s soul, soothing him. Accidents happened, he told himself, he knew it was true. He’d just have to make sure it never happened again. 

Another soft kiss distracted him from that thought and Edge returned it, gently stroking Stretch’s lovely bones and holding him close, sharing his affections with his beautiful love. 

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to get too personal, but I almost broke my partner's nose once with the back of my head. Oops. 
> 
> Accidents happen, Edge, don't feel too bad!


	18. Taking In the View (mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't enjoy a little sight-seeing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a direct sequel to the previous drabble, [Rained Out ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18409532/chapters/44816980)
> 
> Edge probably wouldn't take hurting Stretch very well, even by accident. A little redemption seemed to be in order. 
> 
> This chapter is lemony Adult, so if that's good with you, come on in!

* * *

It wasn’t completely unusual for Stretch to not be in the living room when Edge got home from work. Since they’d moved his lab into the basement, he was often still down there when Edge came in, but if he called down to him, Stretch would be upstairs in a heartbeat, ready with kisses of greeting and smiles.

Instead, Edge went upstairs first to change. A kiss could wait for him to wash up a little. He turned to walk into their bedroom and froze.

Stretch was sprawled out on the bed, bare to his bones and his femurs spread wide. His magic was formed between his legs into a cunt, soft delicate folds, and he had two fingers pressed inside. Edge could hear the slick sound of them moving, see the faint orange of his magic glazing the white bone.

The very sight of it made desire ignite in him like a flame. They hadn't made love in a few days, not since their little ‘incident’. Edge wanted to give Stretch a chance to heal; there was no rush for him, not if it meant possibly hurting his love again. Stretch hadn’t pressured him, but apparently that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting impatient. 

And now they were here, with Stretch clinging to Edge’s pillow with his free arm, his face buried into the plush cushion as he moaned, and he was so lovely in his pleasure. Heels digging into the mattress as he arched up, his fingers moving faster. His bones were shining with sweat, trembling hard enough to rattle—

"oh!" Stretch whimpered. He clutched the pillow harder, his pelvis rocking up into his hand. He pressed his fingers deep, his thumb tight against his clit as he convulsed and came, jerking and twitching as Edge watched. 

A long moment passed, his breathing evening out before Stretch opened his sockets and gave Edge a lazy smile, asking slyly, "did you like that?"

"You teasing little brat," Edge said hoarsely.

"oh, no, no, no,” Stretch shook his head. He shifted to spread his legs again, rolling his hips enticingly. “there you've got it wrong, babe. i'm not teasing at all. what i am is ready to go. you coming along for a ride?”

In three strides Edge crossed the room, already loosening his belt. His pants sagged down as he crawled on the bed, let Stretch draw him between his femurs and he gasped aloud as Stretch arched up, taking him inside in one deep thrust. Pushed inside that tight, slick heat and he felt as much as heard Stretch gasp, a low desperate whine escaping him. 

It was too much. Edge managed to thrust once, twice, and came with a hard shudder, collapsing down to his elbows over Stretch as he trembled. A gentle hand settled on the back of his skull, bones scraping as Stretch petted gently. 

“there, that’s better, isn’t it,” Stretch said and if there was laughter in his voice, there was also tenderness. 

“Brat,” Edge mumbled, and that silent laughter gained voice, soft and sweet in his auditory canal. 

“you love it.”

“I do,” Edge nuzzled a kiss against Stretch’s mouth, then caught hold of his hips firmly, rolling them both so that Stretch was astride him, that pretty languidness shifting to surprise as Stretch caught his balance with his hands resting on Edge’s rib cage. “Now I think it’s your turn for a ride.”

Bright orange flooded Stretch’s face, always that delightful mix of seductive and shy. When he started moving, rocking with tentative care, Edge lay back on the bed, relaxing into the pillows. 

Settling in to watch. 

-finis-


	19. Personal Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming to a new 'verse was a learning experience for Edge, for many reasons but one in particular.

* * *

Coming to a different Universe had been a challenge to many of Edge’s perceptions and not simply because they were on the surface. One of the things he’d been forced to adjust to was a different concept of personal space.

In Underfell, too close was close enough to stab. Staying out of arms-reach was as automatic as breathing, a harsh lesson he’d learned as a child. Even with his own brother, the only time he could recall them being particularly close was when they were sleeping and that was a matter of practicality, sharing a blanket and warmth. 

Even now, Edge still wasn’t comfortable with too many people, particularly Humans, in his personal sphere. He could tolerate it when it was necessary. He preferred it not to be necessary.

It made him seem aloof, he knew, and did not particularly care. Stretch was an exception, but then, he was an exception to many of Edge’s rules.

By contrast, Stretch was happy to touch, giving hugs and high fives, posing for selfies with whoever was brave enough to approach him and ask. He carried dog biscuits and made friends with whatever furry creatures took too much interest in his ankles. He laughed with children, Human and Monsters alike.

It had taken some getting used to. To not grit his teeth anytime Stretch hugged someone, to resist the urge to remove Human hands from him, hands that often didn’t know how easy it would be for them to hurt Stretch. He would never like it, but he could tolerate it. 

The same way he’d learned to tolerate Stretch constantly in his space. From the moment they’d begun dating, Stretch was always there. The light flutter of his hands as he pressed Edge’s shoulder or wrist, the way he leaned in when he was talking excitedly. It had been a slow morphing of brief touches to hugs…to kisses. 

Their first kiss, not the _first_ first one, not that horrible memory best forgotten. But the one he considered their first. He remembered Stretch’s breathing, startled, too-quick, rabbity gusts of air, the way his own hands had trembled, cupping Stretch’s cheek bones and drawing him down for a clumsy press of mouths that at first was hardly more than their teeth scraping together, awful and awkward until Stretch took over, carefully guiding it towards something sweeter. 

Luckily, he’d gotten better at it. Much better. 

That first kiss broke him, in a way. Because after that, Edge couldn’t get enough. Tolerating became anticipating became craving. Something inside him awoke with a greedy cry and Edge began wanting those soft touches, longing for those gentle kisses. Using all his unsteady caution to tentatively learn the best way to guide their mouths together, each one bolder than the last. In those first months, sometimes he woke in the night, panting and sweating, flushed from dreams of those hands moving over him.

Really, having Stretch move in with him had almost been self-defense, to help him cope with an unfamiliar, desperate need. From a lifetime of staying out of reach to one where he never wanted Stretch further than an arms-length away.

What made it all the better was that Stretch felt the same way. 

“babe!”

Edge dropped his briefcase and reached out automatically when Stretch nearly flung himself from the porch into his arms. Slight as his weight was, it was enough to send him back a step, gathering Stretch close as he sprinkled wet, messy kisses over Edge's face. 

“you’d think you hadn’t seen me for a week,” Edge teased. But he tipped his head up into each sweet, welcoming kiss.

“felt like a week,” Stretch told him happily, rubbing the slight protuberance of his nasal aperture against Edge’s. “a week, a month, a year. an eternity is too long without you!”

Edge let out a long-suffering sigh. “You’ve been watching the Hallmark channel again.”

“you have no proof. besides, you should appreciate it, it gives me ideas.”

“That’s a chilling thought,” Edge said dryly, struggling to reach down for his briefcase. It was difficult to carry both it and his husband, surely a ridiculous balancing act for anyone who caught sight of them staggering up the driveway together. 

But he didn’t let Stretch go. 

-finis-


	20. On Cloud Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Edge shouldn't take Stretch's views too cirrus-ly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of a tradition for me to write something during the art auction at Mediawest con. This is what I came up with this year. ^_^

* * *

Dandelions scattered the field, the sunny yellow heads bobbing a wild rhythm in the gentle breeze. A bumblebee made a looping journey between the blooms, passing over a pair of skeletons laying together on a blanket, basking together in the warmth of the sunshine.

The quilt was one Blue gave them, patches made from fabric with a design of dinosaur bones, because he knew his brother’s humor very well. Large enough for them to lay stretched out to their fullest, so long as they didn’t mind being close.

Edge was fairly certain that neither of them minded.

Tucked up next to him, Stretch was sprawled on his back, a hand above his sockets shading his view as he squinted up at the sky.

“there!” Stretch pointed upward excitedly at a large, fluffy cloud. “that one looks like a kangaroo eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“That’s very specific,” Edge mused. “How do you know it’s not ham?”

“because you don’t put grape jelly on a ham sandwich, duh.”

“Of course. How foolish of me.” The clouds drifted slowly across the sky, one briefly dimming the sun before moving on.

Again, Stretch pointed skyward, this time at a long, narrow cloud. “okay, that one. a train crossing the ocean through an underwater tunnel.”

“Hmm,” Edge shifted to follow the line of his pointing finger. He tilted his head to one side, then the other, and only then did he shake it in defeat. “I’m afraid I don’t see it.”

“no? what do you see then?”

“From this angle? A cloud.”

“ugh,” Stretch let his arm drop limply down, covering his sockets. “your literal is pretty sharp, try not to cut yourself.”

“I’ll do my best.” Edge nudged him with a gentle elbow. “What about that one, what do you see?”

Stretch peeked out from under his arm to see where Edge was pointing. “pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.”

“Is that what you see in the clouds or a dinner request?”

“no reason it can’t be both.” He moved suddenly to straddle Edge’s pelvis, pouting down at him. “c’mon, tell me what you see! you gotta have something better than ‘clouds’ or ‘water vapor held in suspended particles.’”

“I never said anything about water vapor.”

“yeah, because i was beating you to it. c’mon!”

Edge gave him a soft smile, resting his hands lightly on Stretch’s hips, his thumbs smoothing over the fabric of his shorts. “there is nothing i could see in those clouds that would be better than seeing through your eye lights.”

For one moment that scowl deepened, then Stretch grudging climbed off of him, “okay, asshole, that was a pretty good line. you get points, but the russian judges only give you a four.”

“I can only hope I got enough tens from the others to make it worth it.” Edge tugged him back down into the curve of his arm, letting Stretch settle with his skull in the hollow of his shoulder. “Now, what do you see in that one.”

“your coccyx, see how it curves there, you’re sensitive right th—mph!” A hand over his mouth muffled the rest, smugly glittering eye lights looking at Edge from overtop his fingers.

“Let’s keep this to a PG rating, you brat,” Edge told him sternly. He made a startled sound of disgust as a tongue swept over his fingers, wet even through his gloves, and jerked his hand away.

“no promises!” Stretch said cheerily. He licked his teeth with slow deliberation, then settled back against Edge, looking back up at the sky. “how about that one? a bathtub filled with eggbeaters.”

“Electric or manual?” Edge asked, not even bothering to be surreptitious as he wiped his damp hand on the front of Stretch’s sweatshirt. 

“manual, you don’t put electric eggbeaters in a bathtub,” Stretch said scornfully. “you trying to kill someone?”

“You’ve taught me the error of my ways,” Edge told him solemnly. He plucked a dandelion from the ground, tickling it lightly against the top of his skull and pressed a soft kiss against yellowish stain it left. “Tell me what else you see?”

He listened, with warmth as bright as the sunshine pouring down on them in his soul, as Stretch pointed skyward again and again, painting him a vision in words while he tracked the clouds as they went across the sky.

-finis-


	21. Off the Rack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge doesn’t actually like bringing work home with him, but sometimes he has no choice.

* * *

Much as Edge hated to do it, there were inescapable days that he was forced to bring his work home with him. A necessary evil and while Stretch never fussed about it, it didn’t prevent Edge from a touch of guilt over being forced to leave Stretch to his own devices all day long.

Not that he didn’t manage to find his own entertainment, but then, that often led to interesting results. His plans definitely took on a more ominous note the more bored he became.

Today he was keeping to himself after a quick kiss of greeting, not too worrisome yet, and Edge only glanced up absently when he came downstairs again some time later.

He’d changed out of his lab clothes, which was not a surprise. And the t-shirt was definitely his own; Edge’s preferences didn’t run to slogans about varieties of beer. But the jeans were Edge’s, uncuffed to reach an appropriate length against his ankles and his jacket was Edge’s as well, one that he kept for casual days away from the office.  
   
Edge only shook his head and sighed. “Don’t you have any clothes of your own, must you always steal mine?”  
   
To his surprised dismay, instead of grinning as he usually would and offering back something probably flirtatious, definitely snarky, instead Stretch hesitated at the foot of the stairs and looked uncertain. “sorry, i can change—"  
   
It _was_ a nice jacket and the lapels were sturdy when Edge took hold of them to drag Stretch into his lap before he could say another word, kissing that doubt away. “No, don’t. I’m sorry, love, I was only teasing.” There was a little button on the lapel that was a new addition, stating ‘ask me about science!’ and Edge tapped it lightly. “You know I love you in my clothes.”  
   
Stretch relaxed and gave him a lopsided smile. “sorry, didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”

“You didn’t. Is anything wrong?” The last few days hadn’t given any clues that he might be coming up on a depressive episode, but it certainly wasn’t impossible.

But Stretch only shrugged, tipping his head to the side to rest on Edge’s shoulder. “nah, just. having a day, i guess.”

Edge leaned his own skull against Stretch’s, closing his sockets to better feel him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

To his dismay, Stretch sat up. He started to shake his head again, then paused and Edge could only hold back his exasperated amusement at the calculating expression that crossed his husband’s face. 

Finally, Stretch asked, “how much labor are you willing to invest?”

“What do you want, you brat,” Edge retorted.

“could we maybe go on a picnic? bring some food and wine and a blanket and go lay in the sunshine for a while? i know you’re busy but—“

“I’m never too busy for you.”

“i know and that line is sexy as hell, but i want to take a nap in the sunshine and you need to work. so, if we have a picnic, we can eat and i can nap and if you bring your laptop, you can work while i’m sleeping.”

“I don’t have to work, love.”

“you do,” Stretch countered. “you’re busy and i get that. so if we do things my way, we both get what we need.”

Part of him wanted to argue, but in the end, Stretch wasn’t wrong. He _was_ busy and if he left off his work now he’d be up half the night finishing it. It was a good compromise, much as he hated to admit it. He wanted to be there for Stretch whenever he was needed, but his work was so very important…

“All right,” Edge said at last. “But you have to come into the kitchen with me for the food. Not to cook,” he added, when Stretch seemed about to argue. “To ensure you don’t get an early start falling asleep on the sofa.”

“deal,” Stretch grinned and gave him a sweet kiss, filled with the warmth of his gratitude.

“Let me change, first,” Edge gently pushed Stretch out of his lap and went upstairs, slipping into jeans of his own. He hesitated at grabbing a t-shirt; all of his own were solid colors, plain and unremarkable.

Instead, he took one from Stretch’s side. There was a cartoon chicken on it and bold letters declared the user to be a ‘Bad Mother Clucker.’

Not to his tastes, no, but it would be worth it to see the expression on Stretch’s face, particularly when Edge covered it with a jacket so no one else could see it.

He stopped in front of the mirror, studying his reflection. The smirk on his face was carefully schooled to impassive, and if asked, he would grudgingly admit there was a certain charm to wearing Stretch’s clothes, such as they were. Not as satisfying as seeing Stretch in his, but it still warmed his soul. 

Sharing between them should be mutual, and he was more than fine with Stretch laying claim to him.

Heh. Laying. He’d have to remember that one.

With a last glance at the mirror, he started back downstairs. A picnic and his love awaited. So did his work, but that was all right. As he was learning, having to work from home didn’t actually mean he had to leave Stretch alone.

-finis-


End file.
